“A man who from the beginning has long been soaked in the languid atmosphere of a woman, the scent of her hands, her bosom, her knees, her hair, her lithe and flowing clothes, Sweet bath, suavely Scented with ointments, has acquired a delicacy of skin, a refinement of tone, a kind of androgyny without which the toughest and most virile of geniuses remains, when it comes to artistic perfection, an incomplete being.” MenKindLongHandsWomenHairGeniusClothesPerfectionSkinsRemainsArtisticAtmosphereKneesToneScentBosomsIncompleteRefinementDelicacyAndrogyny Author:Charles Baudelaire
“I had many, many, many death threats. I couldn't open letters for a long time, because they all had to be opened by either the FBI or somebody. I couldn't open letters. I had to be escorted. In fact, just recently I went to a funeral, Calvin Wardlaw, who was the detective -- the policeman -- with me for two years, passed away just recently. He and I got to be bosom buddies really, but that was the hardest part. I wasn't able to enjoy -- you know.” KnowsYearsLongTwoFactsAbleEnjoyLong TimeLettersThreatHardestTwo YearsFuneralBuddyPolicemenDetectivesBosomsFbiPassed Away Author:Hank Aaron
“So much of our early gladness vanishes utterly from our memory: we can never recall the joy with which we laid our heads on our mother's bosom or rode on our father's back in childhood; doubtless that joy is wrought up into our nature, as the sunlight of long-past mornings is wrought up in the soft mellowness of the apricot; but it is gone forever from our imagination, and we can only believe in the joy of childhood.” BelieveLongPastJoyMotherFatherImaginationMemoriesMorningGoneForeverChildhoodSunlightRecallsOur FatherBosomsOur MemoriesGladnessApricotsJoys Of Childhood Book:Four Novels of George Eliot Source: Four Novels of George Eliot